


Crushed

by VtheHappyLurker



Series: A Point of Divergence [6]
Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types, Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Masturbation, Not Beta Read, Off-screen Relationship(s), One-Sided Attraction, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VtheHappyLurker/pseuds/VtheHappyLurker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending the night helping Bass, Quint finds himself in a very frustrating position. (Spotlight {During chapter 5 of "Sullen"})</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crushed

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Offensive language, UST, triggering situations, solo, robots with dicks, frustrated masturbation, THAT IS NOT LUBE

\-----

The shouting had gotten loud enough that Quint could hear them even back in the supply room. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on gathering the right parts and tools so he could help Bass finish repairing that jerk. As upsetting as it was to hear them fighting again, it was actually kind of refreshing to hear Protoman raise his voice and act like a ungrateful ass instead of being so distant and frigid. For a brief moment, Quint felt like he was back in his own timeline with /his/ big brother instead of stuck in this bizarre parallel world were someone had switched out Proto’s personality with Baroque’s, and vice versa.

The thought made Quint pause, thinking a moment. That wasn’t exactly right… Baroque had never been able to even fake being as tough as this version of Proto was. And he was much more touchy-feely than this Proto, always going in for a hug or even outright coping feels whenever he could get away with it. Then there was that soft, lisping voice he had, like he had a British accent but was trying to sound German at the same time. In fact, Baroque was straight (Quint snickered) out the biggest sissy in the universe compared to either Proto. And all of them put together were still didn’t measure up to Bass…

Quint barely suppressed a sigh as he thought about the way Bass moved, a kind of prowling swagger like he owned the world. He loved to just watch him walk, hypnotized by the lazy sway of his hips combined with how assertive Bass would get giving orders which got Quint all flustered. There was something in the way his shoulders shifted, the gleam in those ruby red eyes revealing all the barely contained power that he’d always been more than ready to exert. And then there was his voice… The way he’d growl and sneer when he talked. How he’d use a tone that was so forceful it was almost a roar even when he wasn’t raising his voice. He never lisped his words but said them sharply and with a boldness which... did /things/ to Quint that left him feeling hot and more than a little dizzy. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that Bass was absolutely nothing like Baroque at all.

But maybe that was all just another weird side-effect of Quint’s presence here. Like the fact that Guts Man and Cut Man were both good guys or Wily not talking with that stupid accent or that mess with the Lion Men. That thought was enough to kill any warm, fuzzy feelings he had. Just recalling that those stupid things had even existed made Quint cringe in embarrassment. As much as he liked having his memories back, there were times when he wondered if it been a horrible mistake to let Flash remove the block. Maybe he’d been better off just not knowing.

Quint shrugged off that little burst of misery and, double-checking to see that he had everything they’d need, headed back to the now very quiet lab. He pushed the work cart forward, noting that Proto wasn’t laying on the table anymore. Bass was still there, though, slumped down in a chair and staring off into space. There was a peculiar expression on his face, not quite anger but Quint knew how quickly that could change. Warily, he went over to him.

“Uh, I… I got the parts you asked for,” he said in a soft voice, bracing himself just in case Bass decided to lash-out.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bass whispered. He shifted, drawing the heavy poncho tighter around himself. “Blues just left. He… He won’t be coming back again. After all, he can take of himself just fine.”

Quint stared at him, shocked at the fact that the normally brash robot was now being so soft-spoken. “But Proto’s still very badly damaged! He could die, Bass!”

He just shrugged, wincing. “Why should I care? It’s not my problem anymore.”

“What? But that’s not what you said when you brought him in,” gasped Quint. He was getting unnerved by the strange, empty look in Bass’ eyes. “You were freaking out and demand that I take care of him first, even before I looked at Treble!”

“Treble wasn’t as badly hurt as Blues. How is my dog doing by the way?”

“He’s back up and about. I had to lock him down in Bay 12 though.” Quint flinched under the glare Bass gave him, but was a bit relieved by it too. “Well, he kept trying to get at Quick and the others… I couldn’t think of where else to put him while they were waiting to be repaired.”

“Oh god dammit!” Bass snarled, sounding more like himself. “I can’t believe you’d be cruel enough to lock a poor, wounded lil’ pooch up like that, Quint.”

“He’ll be fine, Bass. There’s nothing down there that can’t be replaced.” Quickly wiping down the table, Quint smiled at him. “If Proto’s not coming back, then I can at least take care of you. Now get up here, please.”

“I’m fine,” grumbled the larger robot, standing up slowly. “Gonna go check on my dog now.”

Quint stepped right in front of him and blocked Bass’ escape. “No. You are going to lay down and let me check you for damage. /Then/ you can go see Treble.”

“Listen here you little shit,” he growled, getting threateningly close to Quint. “The old geezer left me in charge here. That means that I give the orders here, not you. Now get out of my way before I knock you right back to the future.”

“I might appreciate that, Bass.” Quint closed the distance between them, looking him right in the eye. “I know you want to make sure your puppy’s okay, but you were in a really nasty fight last night and I want to make sure you’re okay. Please, Bass?” He reached out and touched Bass’ chest, causing him to tense up with a grunt. Quint looked down and noticed a dark stain on the poncho.

“What?” he muttered. “That’s just a scratch.”

Quint ignored him and slipped a hand underneath his poncho, feeling around till he found a sharp, jagged piece of metal sticking out of Bass’ side. He pulled his hand away, his fingers sticky with grease and oil. “Bass…”

“Look, I told you it’s just a scratch. See?” He casually yanked the piece of metal out, revealing it to be a roughly five inch yellow point. “You don’t need to baby me.”

“Take off that stupid poncho and get on the table now.” Quint snarled, not even bothering to hide his anger.

Bass just glared at him. “You gonna make me, little shit? And my cloak’s not stupid…”

“Do it or… Or I’ll call Roll.”

He had a slightly frightened look on his face now. “You wouldn’t /dare/.”

“Would I? Now, strip and lay down.”

Huffing, Bass turned away and whipped off the not-at-all-stupid cloak then took off his helmet. “You want me to take it all off or just my chestplate?”

“Just…just uncover your torso for me,” murmured Quint, openly staring as he stripped down to his waist. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander down from the messy hair to the wiring of his neck. Then there were the barely hidden artificial muscles straining under synthetic skin and connecting shoulders to a metal spine with a row of glinting red lights that vanished under his pelvic armor.

“Enjoying the show?” Bass chuckled over his shoulder.

“I…I was just looking to see if there was any other damage!” he barked, turning away and busying himself with the tools. He when looked back, Bass had decided to stretch out and pose on table. “Will you stop that! You might make things worse!”

“Why? You’re the one who was trying to get me naked,” snickered the larger robot as he shifted to lie flat on his back and put his hands behind his head. “I’d thought you wanted to play doctor…”

“Bass, this is serious!” Quint groused, leaning down to inspect the ragged gash in his side. Suddenly, he felt a tug at his helmet. “What the hell?”

Bass just stared at him innocently. “What? I just want to see what you look like under there.”

“I’m trying to repair you. This isn’t the time.”

“But I want to know what you /really/ look like,” purred Bass, pulling his best puppy-eyes. “Please, Quint? I’m a wounded man! It’d make me feel so much better…”

“I don’t have time for this crap…” Quint started to turn away but Bass placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m being serious, Quint.” Bass reached up and lightly stroked his chin, grazing a thumb over Quint’s lips. “I want to see your face. Pretty please?”

Quint glanced away, feeling his face warm up as the little LED’s activated in a brilliant blush. He didn't know whether to be angry at Bass for being a dick… or at himself for actually caving in to the jerk’s demands. “…all right. But you have to promise not to say anything.”

“Right, sure.”

Frowning, Quint took off his helmet and set it aside on the cart. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “There. Happy now?”

Bass only nodded, looking at him with such a strange expression that Quint cower a bit. The larger robot settled back down, barely making a sound as Quint went to work opening panels and patching him back up. In fact, it almost seemed like he actually was enjoying the feeling of fingers delicately probing inside his abdomen, pulling away damaged pieces and replacing bits of wire or a busted part here and there. While he worked, Quint idly noticed that the synthetics of the other robot’s torso and arms were also almost entirely covered with lines of epoxy patches or scraped metal. There hadn't been as many marks on Bass’ back and Quint never thought such a vain bastard would put up with being left in this kind of state.

“I’m…done.” Quint muttered, taking care to smooth a nanoweave patch on Bass’ stomach so it wouldn't leave another mark.

“Good.” Without warning, Bass grabbed him and jerked Quint down on top of himself. Then he rolled, trapping the little robot against the table.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” shrieked Quint, kicking and shoving in a useless attempt to get free.

Bass just laughed, pushing him down harder. “Will you relax? I just want a closer look at you, okay?”

“Don’t!” Quint turned and tried to hide his face. He silently cursed, realizing that he should never have taken off his helmet. It always ended up like this.

“Will you quit being a brat and look at me?” snapped Bass, grabbing his chin and twisting till Quint was forced to look him in the eye.

“Please don’t…” he whimpered, closing his eyes and trying not to think about how coldly Bass was studying his features.

“Oh, so you’re the only one allowed to gawk?” sneered Bass. His grip tightened, making Quint sob in pain. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me. It’s almost like you want to fuck me or something…”

Quint tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled burst of static. He twisted underneath Bass, hoping that the larger robot wouldn’t notice how aroused he was getting from this treatment.

“I don’t blame you,” Bass continued, pressing down even harder to keep Quint still as he stroked a hand across the smaller robot’s cheek. He started to run his fingers through Quint’s hair. “I’d be staring too if I were you. Tell me something, twerp: Was there a guy like me where—excuse me! /When/ you came from?”

“Not…not exactly…” Quint managed to croak with a badly glitched voice.

“Oh? Why don’t you tell me about him, then?”

It took Quint a few minutes to pull himself together enough to get out some more coherent words. “He…was not very…very… Ba-Baroque was really f-f-f-f-f-fey.”

“So he was a mincing little queen?” growled Bass, pulling Quint’s hair as he squeezed him tightly against himself. “You calling me gay, twerp? I’m insulted!”

“No!” Quint gasped. “You…you’re very…very butch!”

“Not helping your case there, Quint. But I’m gonna be nice and let that slide.” Bass’ grip loosened slightly as he let go of his hair. “You know, I kind of see why you wear that helmet all the time. You’re practically an exact double for Rock. You have the same big blue-green eyes…” Bass started to stroke his cheek again. “Boyishly smooth skin, all that dark, messy hair… ” His fingers slid lightly over Quint’s lips. “…a soft, pink mouth that I bet must be so warm and wet…” His other hand wandered down Quint’s back, coming to rest on his ass. “…and those girly little hips…”

Quint barely bit back a moan when Bass nuzzled his neck, hot breath caressing the pneumatic lines and wires. Without really thinking, he parted his legs and let Bass settle between his thighs.

“You even almost smell like him, Quint…” Bass pulled away, baring his fangs in a grin. “I see why everyone wants to fuck the little shit so much. You’re both seem like the perfect little bitch. And you really do look so much like him…” He leaned back down, lips barely brushing against Quint’s ear. “Especially like this. You even sound like him, too! I bet you both scream…”

“Stop!” groaned Quint, trying to twist away but only caused Bass’ grip to tighten again.

“What’s the matter, twerp? Don’t you like this kind of thing?”

“No! I…I don’t!” he snapped, knowing that it was lie even as he said it. “Now let me go!”

Bass only smiled at him. “What if I don’t want to? What you gonna do then, little shit?”

“I…I’ll…I won’t let you…” he whimpered helplessly, voice glitching again.

“Now that would be interesting… Do you know what I’m about to do?” rasped Bass, grinding against the panting little robot. His fingers dug into Quint’s hip, making him jerk up into him. “I am going down to Bay 12, get Treble, and then we are going to hunt down Baldy and Blondie to remind them who the fuck is boss around here.” With that, he suddenly pushed himself off of Quint and got up.

Confused, Quint sat up. He watched Bass put his armor and helmet back on, feeling disappointed at the abrupt loss of contact. Quint wanted to shout at him, to beg Bass come back over and finish him off, but all that came out was a weak rattling noise.

“You got something to say to me, twerp?” hissed Bass.

Quint angrily looked away, shaking his head.

“Thought not. Oh! One last thing…” Bass went over to the tool cart and grabbed Quint’s helmet. “This is coming with me. You can have it back if you think you got the balls to take it.”

Quint tried to protest, but his voice ended up coming out in a burst of static again. He sat back and glared at Bass’ back as he walked off laughing. For a long while, he just sat there feeling too humiliated to even cry. Then he noticed Bass had left his poncho on the floor and a nasty little idea came to Quint’s mind. He reached down and picked it up, warping the heavy fabric around himself, hating himself at what he was planning to do.

Inhaling deeply, Quint closed his eyes and imagined Bass hadn't left him alone but had kept right on going. He thought of those hands pressing down hard on his body, sliding up his back before practically tearing his armor off. Getting into the spirit, Quint stripped down and let his hands wander as he pictured Bass attacking his now vulnerable body with his mouth, biting and licking and doing his best to draw shrieks out of the smaller robot. He was panting hard now as visions of Bass working his way lower till he could feel hot breath on his groin. Quint moaned loudly, thinking of that rough voice teasing him, fingers and fangs going at the exposed cables in his thighs until Quint was literally begging for release.

Quint wrapped his hand around his aching cock, fantasizing that it was Bass’s mouth as he stroked himself slowly. He dipped his other hand down lower, brushing finger against his opening then easing it inside. That caused him to yelp, then bite down on the fabric as he tried work another finger in. It been so long since he’d done anything like this that it just hurt too much, causing Quint to finally gave up in frustration and reached for the cart.

Fumbling, he managed to grab a tub of grease and, after a few moments of thought, a large screwdriver too. He slicked up his fingers and pushed them back in again, grinding down on his hand eagerly as he wrapped the fabric back around himself. Soon Quint got himself to a point where his fingers just wouldn't do.

Picking up the screwdriver, Quint smear grease all over the handle before he eased it inside. He moaned loudly at the way the handle stretched him open. Quint could hardly remember the last time he had something in himself. He wiggled the screwdriver a little, giggling and cooing at the way it hit him right in his spot. Closing his eyes, Quint started pushing the screwdriver in and out as he imagined Bass thrusting into him. He could almost feel the larger robot’s breath panting against his throat as he fucked Quint harder. Bass would certainly call him names, taking him rough and making Quint beg for more. The more Quint thought of how he wanted Bass to take him, the closer he got to hitting his peak until finally Quint brought himself screaming to an orgasm. He lay there for a long time, enjoying the afterglow and the sensation of having a nice hard object buried in his ass.

“Excussssssse me, Quint?” rasped a voice right next to him.

Quint let out a soft squeal, jerking the screwdriver out as he clutched the poncho tightly around himself. “Dammit Snake! What do you want?”

“Bubble sssssent me up here. He needsssss to ssssee you.”

“Do…do you mind telling him to come up here? I’m a bit…indisposed right now.”

The other robot gave him an eerie, unblinking stare. “I don’t think he can do that. Bubble’ssssss kind of bad off right now and ssssstuck in hissssss room.”

“Is he all right?” Quint asked, concern overriding his fear.

“Dependsssss on what you mean by ‘all right’. Sssssee, Bluessss paid him a vissssit lassst night and they had… wordsssss….”

“I don’t understand. How could that be bad?”

Snake broke into a unnaturally wide grin. “Bluesss did mosssst of hisss talking with a crowbar.”

“Oh my god! Why didn’t you say that to begin with?!” Quint snapped as he hopped off the table, scurrying to get his armor back on. Then he noticed Snake was still staring at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to get dressed.”

“Pfft! Thisss isssn’t the firssst time I’ve ssssseen you naked…” snickered Snake. He moved forward until they were almost touching. “Besssssidessss, you’re really pretty without that sssssstupid helmet on.”

Quint glared at him then grabbed Bass’ poncho and shoved it into Snake’s hands. “Here! Why don’t you do something useful and wash this? I’ve got to go help Bubble.”

“Sssssure,” Snake hissed. Then, to Quint disgust, he held up the poncho up and flicked his tongue on it. “Yuck! Tassstess like Bassssss…”

Cringing, Quint finished putting his armor on and grabbed a toolkit. He left the repair bay at a dead sprint, trying hard to ignore the way Snake never took his eyes off him until he’d gotten out of the creeper’s sight.

\----


End file.
